Venus suggests flowing robes, laughter like music, and a
sensuous ease with life. She's feminine receptivity, beauty and grace, unless
you're talking to an astrologer, for whom Venus the planet is primarily a
symbol of love and money. But are these associations accurate? What is our
real experience of the Venus archetype? And how does this correlate with
her position in our charts? This wondering inspired a two-year research project
(see part one of "Venus Revisited" last issue), in which I compared Venus
placements of 426 individuals against their responses to an in-depth questionnaire
probing into all facets of the Venus experience-love, relationship, aesthetic
tastes, creativity, finances, sex, sorrows, and happiness. In survey after
survey, it was apparent that along with the harmonious, loving and sensuous
Venus, there was another one, who was edgier, more conflicted, even divisive.

It is this other Venus, as in the old Flip Wilson joke, "The devil made
me do it," who inspires our more questionable choices, ones that evoke
pain and confusion, even as they irrevocably alter our lives. She is the
darker angel of our nature, full of desire, craving excitement over peace,
urging us to fling ourselves off the precipice of the status quo. If this
other Venus were a romance novel heroine, her story might begin with the
following paragraph (written by a 5th house Venus in Pisces):

Something indescribable has taken over her senses. With pain running
deep in her heart, the warmth from the hearth is inappropriate-too warm
and cozy. Outside the howling wind churns the ocean waves from a soft
waltz to a passionate aggressive tango. The urge to be violently caressed
by the wind overtakes her. She grabs her thickest shawl and heads for
the edge of the cliff, where the wind is at full intensity. The waves
are reaching for her, spraying her face with salt water. The wind tugs
at her clothing and hair-in turmoil-just like her heart. Still, there
is so much beauty to be seen, even now.

Astrologers don't need to search among the asteroids or at the far reaches
of the solar system to locate this more tumultuous goddess. As feminine
receptivity, Venus signifies our capacity to open to life. This brings
delight, but also vulnerability, penetration and pain, and even that, by
Venus standards can be beautiful. The goddess who craves pleasure and passion
loves variety and intensity, which can be exhilarating. It's also disruptive,
inspiring choices that shame or humiliate us, sending us to lovers who
aren't good for us, into orgies of consumption we later regret, stimulating
jealousy, inadequacy, and fear of loss. As an archetype, Venus maps our
route to happiness. But she refuses to take only safe, well-lit roads.
By her very nature, she keeps turning us into the dark.

Ancient sky-watching cultures understood this, observing her cycle with
a mixture of reverence, awe, and fear. Being our closest and brightest
star, her influence was undeniable. To the Mayans, Sumerians, Babylonians,
and many indigenous cultures, her cycle demonstrated shamanic initiation
and change, as she transformed from morning star to evening star and back
again, disappearing into the underworld in between. (1) The modern view of
Venus as promising constant joy reveals our disconnection from the sky's
demonstration of process.

The two most frequent complaints people make about their Venus is that
she hasn't brought them everlasting love or piles of money. But these are
astrologer promises. I've never read a Venus/Aphrodite myth that shows
the goddess counting piles of money or declaring her fidelity to one true
love. She is sexy and creative, also clever, curious, and promiscuous.
When we want only "happy Venus,"
we tend to re-enact Pandora's myth. As Hesiod tells it, Pandora was the
first woman. She was commissioned by Zeus as a punishment for Prometheus'
thievery. Shaped by Hephaestus from water and earth, and blessed with gifts
from every deity, including desire and grace from Aphrodite, Pandora arrived
with a jar she'd been told not to open. Curiosity got the better of her
and she peered under the lid, letting all the evils of the world pour out.
We may get a similar surprise, when we expect to steal only goodies from
Venus. We inevitably release her shadow.

The misogyny in Hesiod's tale is unmistakable. Feminists see it as one
more parry in the patriarchy's war against the feminine. Hesiod likely
revised an earlier goddess myth, in which the first woman arrived bearing
a jar that held not evil, but the feminine mysteries, powers associated
with intuition, dream, and prophecy, as well as the unconscious and the
fertile unknown. Early fertility goddesses were the matrix from which all
life sprang. But in patriarchal pantheons, they were stripped of their
fullness and splintered into multiple goddesses with lesser powers. To
understand how Venus operates in our charts, we must reconnect her to her
matriarchal lineage. We must see her as a force of nature. She's a scented
flower enticing lovers and bees-also an earthquake or hurricane. She's
not always safe. Her fertility can inspire artistic creativity, a sexual
union producing a child, or an experience that shocks and forces us to
grow. As feminine receptivity, Venus takes us to our edge, the brink of
growth; the pain she brings is generative. As psychologist and author Ginette
Paris writes, Aphrodite ".is not just a source of joy, but a path of inner
knowledge." (2) In other words, she brings more than love and money. She immerses
us in life.

Technical Interlude

Which dark roads a person's Venus might travel can be suggested by her
sign or house. But the most articulate placements are often the aspects
to Venus-the conjunctions, squares, oppositions, trines and sextiles from
other planets. I'll share some quotes and stories, but first I must confess
my method. If you have little concern for technical precision, skip ahead.
I've always been persnickety about tight orbs, having been trained by my
teacher to dial charts down into minor aspects, harmonics, and midpoints.
Most days I even sniff in disapproval at the "alphabet" system that draws
equivalents between signs, houses, and planets. (3) I started my Venus research
with elaborate worksheets to calibrate each chart's technical features.
This would have been fine if I'd gotten the 30-50 participants I'd expected,
but with 426, it became overwhelming. I had no choice but to shift toward
intuitive techniques (which of course are more Venusian).

Working intuitively means listening. I read respondent questionnaires
and listened for patterns, then observed how the words did or didn't match
the charts. I gathered all the Sagittarian Venuses, or the 8th house Venus
group, and listened for similarities among them. Important too was what
people didn't say. Indeed more than one astrology chestnut dissolved this
way. One of the first to go was "jealousy is a Venus Scorpio affliction" (or
an 8th house/Pluto influence). When over half my respondents admitted to
problems with jealousy, it confirmed this was a generic Venusian trait;
it's not only silly, but inaccurate to limit it to just one sign. Most
exciting was hearing that there were indeed similarities that bound each
Venus group and made them different from the others. The Venuses in Aquarius
related similar aspirations for love, unlike what the Venuses in Cancer
shared. Even after twenty years of practicing astrology, I'm always thrilled
and a little surprised that astrology works!

Yet reading the questionnaires also brought significant moments of confusion,
when I would hear the unmistakable note of a planet that was not connected
to the Venus tree. A Venus conjunct Mars would complain more than once
of despair or low self esteem and I'd expect to see Saturn waving his gloomy
hand over Venus or Mars, but it wasn't there. Even though my questions
were focused on Venus matters, there was nothing to prevent the Sun or
Moon or anything else from responding. And sometimes that's where the Saturn
aspect would be hiding. But anything important in a chart is said at least
three times. As I raised my eyes and brought them into softer focus, a
whole new network of Venusian relationships came into view. Often enough,
a planet would influence Venus through an aspect whose orb was just over
ten degrees or even wider. Sometimes an outer planet whose only connection
with Venus was occupying the same sign, twenty degrees away, would still
figure in that person's Venus story. These wide and sloppy aspects often
spoke louder than the tight minor ones, like quintiles or biquintiles with
a one degree orb.

I've met astrologers who interpret aspects by sign rather than orb (as
in reading any Taurus planet in square to any Aquarius planet, no matter
their degrees). This practice used to make me roll my eyes. I did not expect
that studying so many charts in this focused way would relax my astrological
precision, but it has. Perhaps it's just the technician's fantasy that
gods stay within discrete numerical boundaries. Real lives are messy. Archetypal
edges mix and blur. I'm now more comfortable with the alphabet system.
I've seen how vigorously it works. A 9th house Venus can indeed be like
a Venus in Sagittarius or in aspect to Jupiter. I've also found that the
particular nature of an aspect-whether it's a square, trine, or sesquiquadrate-can
have less significance than is usually given it. In real life experience,
a square may not be so different from an inconjunct. What matters is that
the planets are connected. Among respondents whose Venus aspected the Moon,
I heard similar themes, whether the planets were bound by conjunction,
trine, or opposition. How well the planets worked seemed more to do with
a person's background and willingness to grow-a mystery which often trumps
the math.

I've had sensual desires even before knowing what sex was. When I
was only four, my mother took me to the beach. Once she was settled she
noticed that my attention had gone to an incredibly handsome man who
was sunbathing close to us. I suddenly got up and walked straight to
this man, kneeled beside him, stroked him gently from his upper thigh
to his knee and said, "Hmmm, you smell like a man." My mother was horrified.
I've always had boys on my mind, but funnily enough "sex" scared me.
I was a virgin until the age of 19. . My relationships have been a disaster.
As I have been on my own since the age of 16, I think I have confused
love and security, settling for second best because I did not feel I
could do better. . I feel very self-conscious about my body, not keen
on being naked. I don't want to feel shame, but I do; however, when aroused
and during sex, this disappears. I no longer fear not being perfect.
My inner goddess takes over and it feels wonderful to be unclothed. (Venus
square the Moon)

The dark side of the Moon/Venus aspect goes all the way back to Mount
Olympus, where the divided Feminine began quarrelling with itself. Competition
between Hera, queen of heaven, and sex goddess Aphrodite sparked not only
the Trojan War, but an unconscious friction between nurture and sex, or
the security of relationships and their lusty pleasure. We can understand
a mother's horror at her daughter's early sexual awakening, but the reaction
may inspire a child to turn against herself, feeling guilty for sexual
feelings or learning to compromise desire for safe commitments. Many with
this aspect battle against their bodies: "It's not perfect," "It's disgusting," or "It
reminds me of my mother's." They tell stories of feeling criticized by
their mother or embarrassed by their mother's own flirtatiousness. They
are on the front lines of what is a larger cultural dilemma, where the
divided feminine flares as eating disorders, the inability of women to
share power with other women, or men confusing wives with mothers who they
must sneak out on with their mistresses.

Many with Moon/Venus feel a sweet connection with their mothers, even
if the relationship is sometimes fractious. A positive feminine influence-a
mother, aunt, or grandmother who's able to contain both Hera and Aphrodite
with ease-can help to give this aspect a beautiful expression: confident,
creative, sensitive, sensuous, and nurturing. The soul assignment of Venus/Moon
is to reunite the Feminine into its original fullness. Loving the body
and reclaiming its sacredness can be a significant step toward integrating
these two feminine potencies. This was an important discovery for one Moon/Venus
square in my study:

I learned a valuable lesson while on a summer vacation in Brazil when
I was 17. In Rio they walk practically naked on the streets. Men wear
those tiny Speedo bathing suits and women of all shapes, ages, and sizes
wear bikinis or 2-piece tangas, and no one takes a second look at them.
They feel so free with their bodies. I reflected on that. After the initial
shock, something clicked inside about the beauty of the human body and
the different shapes it takes. If someone else doesn't like it, he or
she can just look the other way.

Venus awakens in the body naturally, sometimes before the culturally accepted
age, but when she's in aspect to Pluto, there may be an unwanted initiation.
It would be irresponsible and incorrect to say that every Venus/Pluto connection
indicates sexual abuse. Yet much like Pluto abducting Persephone into the
underworld, there may be a premature and unwanted awareness of sex, too
big for innocence to fully process. This is another aspect that can carry
shame with the body, or a sense of being damaged in some way. With Venus/Pluto,
it's almost as if a layer of protection is missing, intensifying the vulnerability
and raising the voltage of emotions. There is great strength with this
aspect, but initially its sensitivity can inspire extremes of either shutting
Venus down or throwing her to the wolves.

What did I learn about love before I was five? That I was unlovable,
unwanted. Somehow sex was tangled up with that, but I don't fully understand
how. I was sexually abused at nine, but I just know it wasn't the first
time and I have strange fragments of memories. I learned that sex could
buy me an illusion of love. Love is still very difficult to trust even
after years of therapy. Once, despite my better judgment, I got involved
with a chilling man (intensely possessive and very dishonest) quite quickly
after I parted with my ex-husband. Our sexual relationship was both passionate
and sometimes dark (involving S&M) which was both exciting, disturbing,
and at times, towards the end, frightening. I was the masochist in the
relationship in lots of ways, including sexually. After the relationship
ended (which was intensely painful, because I had grown to "love"/need
him?) I decided to get my head sorted out! (Venus opposite Pluto)

When one journeys in the underworld, it helps to have a guide. A painful
Venus/Pluto experience can be the catalyst for seeking counseling, joining
support groups, or attending workshops leading to greater insight into
self and others, identifying deeper motivations and unconscious patterns.
Some of the most dramatically painful stories of loss, abuse, and betrayal
were told by the Venus/Plutos in my study, yet they also showed a survivor's
strength and keen self-awareness. It is helpful to remember that in the
myth, Persephone becomes a Queen. We could say she learns to protect her
treasures carefully, revealing them to only those worthy of her trust.
With mastery, she inspires others with her emotional authenticity, her
readiness to meet the unknown, her skill in clearing the past, releasing
relationships that no longer serve.

Astrology books raise high expectations for Venus/Jupiter aspects. The
conjunction is considered the most fortunate of all planetary combinations,
bringing abundance, luck, and popularity. The dark side of this and other
Venus/Jupiter combinations is usually reported as over-indulgence-too much
eating, drinking, or spending-or overbearing judgment and hypocrisy. Among
the Venus/Jupiters in my study and even those I've known, I've not often
seen these high or low extremes. Philandering Zeus and promiscuous Aphrodite
did have reputations for indulgence. But in other myths, they were father
and daughter, with Zeus raising Aphrodite to deity status, alternately
protecting her or reigning her in. It was this "raising up" quality that
I most consistently heard in the Venus/Jupiters in my study. There was
an aspiration for journeying, geographical and spiritual, and delight in
experiences that brought freedom, new perspectives, and a connection to
truth. There was often good fortune through teachers. In the following
story from a woman with Venus trine Jupiter, one can almost see Zeus looking
out for his daughter, calling her to journey to his own wife's temple.
Maybe it was Zeus masquerading as the guard who allowed her in to receive
an important message.

Years ago I took a trip to Greece and was drawn to see the Heraion,
a temple dedicated to the Goddess Hera. This is a desolate site on the
Argive plane. I could not understand why I was driven to see it. The
day was scorching hot but I had to go. Nothing would stop me. When I
got to the site, the guard, who said he seldom got visitors, was so happy
to see me that he let me in for free. I climbed onto the temple wall
and sat on it, staring out at the mountains in the distance. Insects
buzzed in the dry grasses and the sun beat down, but I was oblivious
to everything, mesmerized by the heat and the quiet. Suddenly, a very
clear, decisive, imperious statement entered my consciousness. "How long
to you think you can live a lie?" it asked. It shocked me. This was nothing
like my inner voice. The question was repeated and I knew immediately
what it was about. I had been living in a very difficult and unhappy
marriage for many years. The experience was killing my spirit. I began
to cry softly, then the tears came with great heaving sobs. I finally
pulled myself together and returned to my hotel. When I realized what
had happened I was overwhelmed. The archetype of the great goddess had
come to life, there in the Heraion. When I returned to the US, I asked
for a divorce and moved to live and work in Greece. (Venus trine
Jupiter)

Whatever the planetary aspect, if we see our difficult Venus experiences
as our unique path to growth, we too are raised up, no longer victims or
screw-ups. People can be quite judgmental about their own love failures.
Perhaps it is Venus who journeys through us, to reach the fullness of her
bliss again and again. When she takes us through the underworld, if we
do not fall into unconsciousness or remain there, if we keep our traveling,
we may have moments when we know what the gods know.

I had always experienced my Venus opposite Neptune as heartbreak,
falling in love with all the wrong men-longing for a deeper connection
I could never find with the men I was attracted to, loving men who didn't
love me back or had other women in their lives. The "horoscope of
heartbreak" I used to call it, until I hit 48 years old. I met an
artist who connected with me instantly. We've been together 3 years.
As a portrait artist, he has painted both of my daughters, and a nude
of me which is now hanging in an art gallery. How's that for Venus at
work!

See Daniel Giamario's excellent article
about the Venus cycle in the Feb/Mar 1997 issue of TMA, "A Shamanic
Investigation of Venus and Mars." >>

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